


The Cat in the Flat—Meet Qute

by Dart



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Abusive boyfriend, Bermondsey, Domestic Violence, M/M, Mention of past kidnapping of a child, Q Has a Cat, Snarky Q
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-02-07 16:18:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21460930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dart/pseuds/Dart
Summary: Am I the victim of a demented house elf? Seriously! What the fuck?” Q was missing another pair of boxers. And he knew he wasn’t crazy because after the third pair went missing, he took a picture of his laundry line.  There. The faded red ones. In the picture, not in reality. He opened his depopulated pants drawer for the fifteenth time. “Seriously. What the fuck?”
Relationships: James Bond/Q, Q/OMC
Comments: 59
Kudos: 170





	1. Dropping Your Boxers

**Author's Note:**

> At first, this wasn’t my fault. But now, it’s totally my fault.
> 
> Nekoii suggested a “flat cute meet idea” where Q drops his laundry to the floor below’s window. 
> 
> And I said, “Omg or what if his naughty cat learns to pull them off the line?”
> 
> Warning, this is going to take a hard turn from the initial fluffy Meet Qute.
> 
> Q is not the Quartermaster in this story. At least not yet. James is 007 though.

Am I the victim of a demented house elf? Seriously! What the fuck?” Q was missing _ another _ pair of boxers. And he knew he wasn’t crazy because after the third pair went missing, he took a picture of his laundry line. There. The faded red ones. In the picture, not in reality. He opened his depopulated pants drawer for the fifteenth time. “Seriously. What the fuck?”

————————————————————————————————————————————————

Cats were known for bringing dead prey to their humans, James Bond found it amusing that this cat, a sorrel Abyssinian, brought undergarments to an assassin. More specifically, middle of the road men’s boxers, well washed, size medium.

_ Meow_.

James turned to his contact/supplier

“You know the deal, Agent Kitty, you hand over the prize,” James paused, unable to believe he had made a deal with a cat. "You get the fancy canned fish you ruthlessly negotiated for.”

_ Meow_.

Agent Kitty dropped the faded red boxers and rubbed against James’ legs on her way to where her feast would be served in a Minton Green Cockatrice bowl.

James tossed the stolen boxers into the laundry basket. He had a plan.

————————————————————————————————————————————————

James made the mistake of telling Eve Moneypenny. 

“So, you find used pants hanging on your window handle, and instead of immediately returning them like a decent person, you think ‘I’ll start a collection!’ You then get a _ flood _ of used pants on the installment plan. And do you at anytime take pity on your poor neighbor? No! You think, ‘Psssshhh. I know! I’ll collect his pants and return them all at once!’ That won’t be creepy. _At all._”

“I also bought him new _ classier _ pants.” James was clearly pleased with himself.

Eve gave a half scream of sheer frustration.

James continued, “To give him when I return the ones Agent Kitty brought. And I did wash them first.”

Eve hit him.


	2. Where You Live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James does not follow Moneypenny’s advice because of course he doesn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Q is not the Quartermaster in this story, at least not yet. James Bond is 007.
> 
> Thanks to Boffin1710 for the help on boroughs and flats.

Contrary to popular belief and all official MI6 paperwork, James Bond’s primary residence was not the flashy flat in Kensington. No, though it had been meant as a punishment—knocking him down several notches to the less fashionable and much smaller—flat #8 in Bermondsey was where he _ lived. _ He had settled into the punishment and found that he liked it. He kept up the sulking for show. He didn’t try for contrite. No one would ever believe contrite on James Bond. And when it came time to move back up—having regained M’s good favor—he kept the flat. In a roundabout way, using a shell corporation, of course.

The spacious and posh _ official _MI6 residence had its uses—when he was too bloody to sneak into his flat without alerting his neighbors, when he was likely being watched.

He can always tell when they send the Junior Agents to tail him. It’s like clockwork really. And Tanner gets a particular twitch above his left eye. James lets them follow him “home”, then slips out to catch them unawares. Usually knocking them unconscious and writing “I’m dead” in permanent marker on their foreheads. Then he fucks off to his real flat. He fucks off _ home. _

————————————————————————————————————————————————

While many would say that 00 agents were amoral by nature or at least training, James Bond, 007 had and lived by a very clear code. Those same many might say it was stunted and lacking, but it most certainly was a code, albeit sparse and somewhat specific. Save England, save innocents—you know, when you can—never be cruel to animals, and keep your neighbors under your protection. Maybe it was a holdover from his ancestors, absent Laird that he was. His neighbors had unknowingly taken on the risk of living in the same building as a 00, and James would do his best to see to their safety and well-being in recompense. Usually it was minor things and when it wasn’t minor, well that was _ classified. _

————————————————————————————————————————————————

James wouldn’t normally, to change a phrase, _ fuck where he sleeps _ , but he’s intrigued by the pantsless messy-haired elusive boffin in the flat above his. And Agent Kitty, well she’s a natural …he would be willing to work with her on future ops. And M did warn him not to start any national incidents while he was home on extended medical leave.

————————————————————————————————————————————————

James knocked on the door to the flat above his, a winning smile in place.

“Hello, I’m James from the flat just below yours.”

“Er…hi? I’m Q.”

Never one for small talk when he can cut to the chase, James said, “At the rate you’re losing your pants, I thought you might need to replenish your supply, lest you have to go commando.”

James had been hoping for interest, but he was enjoying the shock and mortification playing across Q’s face.

“How…wha…how do you know I’ve been missing my…articles of clothing?”

James pulled out the stack of freshly laundered boxers from behind his back, “I’ve found these hanging from the handle of my bathroom window over the past several days.”

“What?!”

“You have a pet? Maybe a cat? Or maybe faulty clothespins?”

“You’re telling me you have a _ stack _ of my boxers because my cat is some devilish mastermind.”

“Yes?”

“Christ,” Q scrubbed his hair with his hands, “it checks out. She really is a mastermind.”

James gave him a charming smile, soon to be followed by a pick up line and a leer.

“Perhaps I could interest you in more entertaining ways to lose your pants.”

Q was dumbstruck.

Then James said, “I also took the liberty of upgrading you…” and held up a canvas Sunspel bag.  
  
Q grabbed the stack of _ his _boxers and slammed the door in James’ face, but not before James got a good look at his spreading blush. He’d been right. It was delightful.

“I’ll just leave these here,” James called through the door. “I’d hate for them to go to waste. And they are _ much too small _ for me. To possibly fit into.” He hung the bag of brand-new boxer-briefs on the door handle and whistled as he made his way to the stairs. 


	3. <A chapter of the ongoing saga of James Bond bargaining with a cat over procuring boxers>

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alas, this is more the idea of a chapter, but I hope the thought amuses you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I posted chapters two and three at the same time.
> 
> You all can just write this chapter in the comments, if you feel so inclined.

It wasn’t so much that he trained the cat to bring him things, heavens no, James liked to view it more as working out an agreement among equals. 

  
Clearly, he was the subordinate.    



	4. Laundry Day is the Worst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like. Oh. My. God. Laundry. Day. Is. The. Worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter mentions the past kidnapping of a child and also the bad boyfriend and controlling behaviors.

Q blew his considerable fringe out of his face. “Shit.” He’d put laundry off until the absolute last. He’d had to put on the sleep pants that were slightly too big and rode low on his hips. _ And _ he’d had to dig into that bloody Sunspel bag for one of those perfectly wrapped pair of stupid fucking boxer-briefs. So of fucking course he had locked himself out of his flat. “Bloody. Buggering. Fuck.” He was going to be late and his boyfriend was going to fucking _ sulk _ about it.

James Bond _ never _ did laundry in the basement laundry room. He’d spent 45 minutes breaking his dryer, so he’d have to use a dryer down here. Perfectly timed to overlap with Q’s, of course.

He nearly purred when he saw the band of _ his _boxer-briefs standing well above the waist of those sinfully low sleep pants.

“Mmmm I must admit it’s nice to see you wearing _ my _ pants after all.”

Q jumped. “You’re worse than a cat!”

“My apologies. Perhaps you’d like to put a bell on me?”

“I left laundry too long and I hadn’t had a chance to donate these yet. That’s all,” Q grumped.

James slid into his seductive tone like it was second nature, because well, it _was_. “Mmm, you could always wear one of _my_ old Navy shirts.” He eyed Q appreciatively. “I’d like to see that. Very very much.”

Q turned and angrily said, “I’ve already got one possessive bastard in my life, I don’t need a second!”

And _ Bond _ went all businesslike. “Who”—and he wanted to ask, _ ‘…do I have to kill? _’ but he had learned that didn’t go over well—“… has been giving you trouble?”

“Oh no you don’t! What kind of an utter _ fucklord _ keeps finding a bloke’s pants and doesn’t return them?! No you start a collection! And then! Then you buy me the wrong kind…intentionally! Did you think about me? Worrying about how someone was getting into my flat? No! You were too busy imagining my arse and what you wanted to clothe it in! Did you give a shit about what _ I _ like to wear? Of course not!”

Q yanked on his curls, “What is with controlling motherfuckers trying to dictate my goddamned clothing!”

“Q. Who’s the other possessive bastard?”

And now Q wouldn’t meet his eyes. “It’s none of your business. _ I’m _ none of your business.”

“Q.” James waited until he had his attention, “I take an interest in the well being of _ all _ my neighbors.” And after a few seconds of watching him, James saw the dots connect.

“You got those punks to leave Mrs. Abernathy alone?”

James neither confirmed nor denied. He tried to get ahead of it.

“Has he hit you?”

“What makes you think it’s a he?”

“Has sh…the person you’re avoiding mentioning hit you?”

“That’s none of…” Q trailed off and James saw it click into place, “The Garcias?”

_ Fuck_. He went for nonchalantly asking, “What about the Garcias?”

“Their daughter?”

James didn’t have to fake the heartbroken look. “I was out of the country at the time.”

Q got such a look of grief, “It was so horrible when she was taken.”

“Mrs. Abernathy told me as soon as I got back, before I had stopped to get my mail even.”

Q was overcome with remembering the fear and panic. James put his hand on his forearm to steady him.

“She’s safe now, Q. Mrs. Garcia said she is doing well in therapy.”

“I sa…I heard they found the guys who took her…there were _ pieces_.”

James thought _ yes, there certainly were_, but he asked, “Where did you hear that?”

“My…” and Q faltered, “_ …he _ let that bit leak, he said he thought it would cheer me up.”

James felt revulsion. “First of all, surely that information was classified. Second, does he know you _ at all?” _

“I…I threw up after he…told me…that.”

“I hope it was all over him.”

Q laughed. “It’d have served him right, but god, he’d have never let that go.”

James touched Q’s chin. “Q. I apologize for being so forward in my flirting. I shouldn’t have let my manners be clouded by the thought of how delightful your blush would be when I gave you such an inappropriate gift.”

Q rolled his eyes and shifted his chin away. “You’re still being a creep.”

James gave a head tilt in deference. Maybe Moneypenny had a point.

“I at least should have made sure you were not in a relationship.”

“Yes, you should have. But that doesn’t lessen you being a creep. With the worst pick up lines in existence. Seriously. What the fuck?”

“You’d be surprised how well they seem to work, no matter the locale.”

“For Christ’s sake! I chide you for your unimaginative and lazy pick up lines and your response is ‘that’s okay, I’ll fuck anything that moves anytime, anywhere.’”

James snorted.

“And for your information, it’s your ridiculously attractive face and body doing the picking up, your mouth just fails to drive off the ones with unbearably low standards.”

“My ridiculously attractive face and body hmm?” James grinned his broadest smile.

“Ugh. I didn’t think your ego could get any more inflated.”

“You deflated it quite well, thank you.”

Q scoffed and muttered what sounded like, “doubtful.”

“About this controlling bastard of yours–“

Q cut in, “You’re telling me you’ve never had a romantic partner steal your money or get you kicked out of school or see other people behind your back or get you in trouble at work?”

James grimaced.

“That’s the most honest facial expression I’ve ever seen on you, I mean other than that repulsive leer. Did I hit a nerve?”

James rubbed the center of his face. “You hit all of them.”

“Right.” Q looked away and fussed with the clothes in his basket.

James raked his fingers through his hair. Then he folded his arms and said, “My friend did try to warn me not to be a creepy arse.”

“Clearly you didn’t listen.”

“Do I ever?”

“If you were on fire and I told you to put it out, I’m fairly certain you’d give me cheek while still not putting it out.”

James nodded because: well, _ true_. “I’ll listen now, Q. You’ve fairly driven the point well home.”

Q looked skeptical.

“I’ll keep my ridiculously attractive smarmy arse to polite neighborly encounters.”

“Ha.”

“Q, I mean it when I say I take the well being of all my neighbors seriously. I want you to know you can call or text me any time.” He handed Q a card. “For you or anyone else in the building.”

Q looked at the card, “You travel a lot.”

“I do at times. But I’m a resourceful guy. And I have friends.” James wondered what was with the challenging look.

“Friends? Not _ associates_?” Q demanded.

James was confused.

Q looked him up and down. “You’re telling me you’re strictly on the up and up? I’ve seen you with your black eyes and noticeable limps.”

_ Ah. _ “Q, I’m a retired Naval Commander. Other than speeding tickets, I have a clean record.” _ Thanks to the IT geeks in Q Branch. _James continued, “I’m not saying my friends aren’t tough guys,” and amended, “and ladies, but they’re not criminals.”

“I’m sure I won’t need your help.” Q tried to return the card.

“Keep it,” James said, gently nudging his hand away.

Q looked conflicted.

“You’re worried he’ll find the card?”

Q bit his lip. “N–

James asked for Q’s phone, and then typed in his number, “There.”

Q read the contact name, “Crazy Cat Lady in 8,” and he laughed. And James liked the sound of that. A lot.

“Here,” and Q gestured, “let me give you my number” and James internally smiled because he’d already memorized it. He handed over his phone, and when it was handed back to him with a grin, he read, “Laundry Loser in 12.”

And Q looked so pleased with himself, James laughed a bit in delight.  
  
And if James added an additional alert keyed to any calls to 999 from Q’s number, well, he’d already had the building’s address set with an alert.  
And Q asked around, more than he already had, and found out that James, though frequently absent, was a polite and considerate neighbor. Well, none of the other residents mentioned any inappropriate gifts of undergarments. Though Mrs, G.had _ opinions_.

And while Q had a long sordid history of going for the bad boy, for once it wasn’t the brawn and air of danger that hung around James like a malevolent mist that made his heart—and well, several parts of him—feel funny, it was the gentle kindness——sitting with Mrs G on the anniversary of her husband's passing. James had only been out of town once and Mrs. G leaned in, “he was gone for _months, _and when he finally returned, he looked like death warmed over. He wouldn’t say, but I think he was in a car crash and someone _died_. He was clearly recovering from something and well, a widow knows grief when she sees it.” ——that made up Q’s mind. He would give being friends with James a go.

Yes, Q had always been one for the bad boy. His latest boyfriend, the detective sergeant, had not been the only strong, selfish and possessive bastard, though Q would readily admit, but only to himself, _ he _ was in the upper third of the worst of the lot. And only when he was being very very honest in the sleepless wee hours would he admit to himself that it might be starting to scare him.

Maybe Q was growing up. He could use some kindness in his life. And James hadn’t leered at him once since he had learned that Q was in a relationship. Maybe they could be friends. Maybe Q deserved it.  
  
And if it wasn’t a hardship to look at James’ obscenely fit body, and feel that gruff voice down to his toes, well, Q lost track of where that thought was going actually. Hmmm, anyway, He could enjoy the proximity of a beautiful and dangerous man without being fucked into the mattress by him. They could be friends.

And it was nice. They exchanged witty banter, but without the edge of heat when James wanted something—sex or much more often a favor. James shared the cookies he baked. The still warm oatmeal were Q’s favorite. And if James thought of the scent of vanilla and cinnamon on Q’s breath after he ate them, well, a good baker never shared all of his secrets.

And Q, Q quite liked giving his wicked tongue free rein. It had been so long since he’d let his full sense of humor out to play without regard to any nearby brutish men and their emotionally stunted fragile feelings. Initially, he’d unfettered his tongue to most efficiently send his unwanted neighbor and his unwanted advances packing. But even when he’d inadvertently landed a mortal blow—and what kind of poor choices had James made in the romantic partner department to warrant _ that _expression—James had taken it. No bluster, no ridiculous postering, no threatening (either overt or implied, neither physical nor emotional), a head tilt of acknowledgement if anything. James gave as good as he got, and when he lost a round, he didn’t fucking sulk about it. Oh, Q was sure James could give a master class in sulking if the occasion warranted it, but Q could enjoy the proximity of the big cat—and that’s exactly what James’ presence felt like in their unguarded moments—without having to clean up after it, without having to coddle it like a great whinging toddler in a strop.

—————————————— 

Medical Leave was dragging on and on, but it was nice to have a friend. And for once, James Bond was not causing trouble.

  
  



	5. Agent Kitty You Can Count On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It isn’t the police alert that tips off James, it’s the cat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone isn’t 100% aware, this is a work of fiction and although I often spend a ridiculous amount of time looking things up in an effort to get the details right, I’m sure I will miss the mark. But Q’s cat is a total mastermind. That is fact. 
> 
> Warning for aftermath of domestic violence in this chapter.

James hadn’t heard from or seen Q in days. Finally he texted, “Have you seen Mr. Timmons? I can’t find him anywhere.”

There was no answer.

————————

James heard a yowl from his bathroom and called out, “I told you, Agent Kitty, no more cans of ventresca tuna for boxers, I—” He opened the door and Agent Kitty gave him such a look of utter loathing, he thought she could have given _ his M _ pointers.

“What have you got there?” 

And James saw what it was. And his jaw clenched. And then he saw that it wasn’t the only present she had brought him. She had been back and forth at least twice. An empty box for bruise cream, and an empty tube of concealer. But it was the bloodied gauze at her feet that set him off.

He scooped her up and said, “I am going to buy you a tuna steak, Agent Kitty.”

——————-

007 was in a murderous haze. He would send Ms. G. to tend to Q and he would go gut the detective sergeant in the middle of the station. And hang his entrails from the lamp out front. In warning.

Bond, Bond wanted to… kiss Q with all his might and then go gut the detective sergeant in the middle of the station. And feed him his kidneys before he bled out. He had never done that, but this was a special occasion.

But James, James knew he couldn't let Bond or 007 take care of this, James knew that he needed to go to Q and take care of him, but they all agreed that James needed to make sure that Q was safe. They only varied on the timing and minor details of the detective sergeant’s bloody bloody death.

James knocked firmly on Q’s door. There was no answer.

“I know you’re in there.”

“Go away. I’m in the middle of something.”

“Q. Open the door.”

“Please, James, I have a…headache.”

“I have your cat and I know how you worry when she tries to climb up to your window from mine. I can lock her in my apartment for her safety, but you know how she cries…”

The door opened a crack. “Let her down, and she’ll come in.”

“Q.”

“Now is not a good time, James.”

“Q. I know you’re bleeding.”

“And what have I told you about being creepy, you spying fuckcabbage.”

“Your clever cat brought me bloodied gauze.” _ Among other things _he didn’t add.

“I can’t…it’s best if you stay away.”

“Q. You can’t stay with him.”

“No shit you dumb arse. I figured that out when he smacked me. Ta very much.”

“Let me call a doctor then.”

“I don’t—”

James’ voice went firm. “Q, either let me come in and make sure you are okay. I’m trained in first aid, overtrained really, that’s the…Navy for you or let me drive you to A&E…”

“I don’t _ need _ a doctor.”

James made a noise of disbelief.

“Fine. I also can’t leave a record.”

“I can call a doctor friend. Strictly off the books.”

“No.”

“Q, I’m not leaving until I know you’ll be okay.”

The door swung partway open, Agent Kitty leapt down and darted through, James followed her lead.

Q looked _ busy. _ There were three computers running that James could see, and there were papers everywhere.

“Fine. You can take a look. I’m sure you’ll be unable to help yourself critiquing my first aid skills and then be on your way. I’m busy.”

“Show me where you’re bleeding first.”

“It was just my nose, it’s already stopped.”

“_Q.” _

Q rolled his eyes and said, “Fine you great lech,” opened his robe and continued, “see for yourself.”

James catalogued the bruises. He kept his touch gentle but slightly lingered on the ring of finger tip bruises around Q’s neck.

“What you’re not going to offer to go kill him?” Q snarked.

“Do you want me to kill him?” James asked, still assessing Q’s ribs.

Q gave a bitter laugh. “Since when does it matter what I want?”

And James thought _ since you made it matter, _but said, “I have some stronger bruise cream, if you’d like.”

“No smarmy comment about luring me to your flat? Should I check you for a fever?”

“_Q._” James cupped his cheek, ever so gingerly.

“Well? What’s your verdict?”

“Bruised, nothing broken.”

“Yes, that’s why I said I didn’t need a doctor.”

“I had to make sure.”

Q’s lips straightened to a line and he looked away. “Yes well, if you’re done pawing me, I truly am busy.”

James took a half step back. “Q, I want you to be safe. That’s the most important thing.”

“Safe. Ha. I broke it off,” Q gestured at his injuries. “I can’t press charges. He has enough buddies and _ associates,_ he’s threatened to…ruin me.”

“Q.”

Q bit his lip and James knew that there was more, “Q,” he said in that serious voice, “He’s not worth protecting.”

“It’s–it’s not that.” Q was obviously torn.

James was puzzled. “Have you done something?”

“No. Not yet. And I wouldn’t! It’s just he knows I do computers. But I’ve been careful to never tell him how good I am. I don’t tell _ anyone _ that.”

That raised a red flag in James’ mind.

Then Q continued, “He once demanded that I do something…slightly illegal computer wise for him. I refused and he…was a bit rough and went into a massive sulk, then I pretended to fold and confessed I didn’t know how to do that.”

“Could you do it?”

Q scoffed. “I could do that when I was 10!”

“Then what?”

“He was apologetic. He _ pretended _ to be apologetic. But he would drop hints, indicating he wanted, no expected me to learn how to do these things.”

“And now?”

“He has leverage.”

“Q,…”

“He…he showed me photographs and videos he took of me.”

“Without your consent?”

“Without my knowledge! I would never have agreed to that. He asked me to take pictures early on when we…well, and I said NO.”

James waited for him to continue.

“He’s threatened to have me brought up on convoluted charges of prostitution and drugs. That his buddies will make it stick, which means fabricating evidence. He…he intimated that they’ve done that and haven’t gotten caught. Won’t get caught. I think, at least one higher up knows. He didn’t come out and confess, but it’s bad, James. I _ know _ it is.”

“He blocked my number?”

“He went through my phone and blocked _ everyone. _ Even my family.” He rubbed his nose across the cuff of his robe, “He wants me to give up my flat, James. I’ve …I’ve kept it all this time because…because well, I said I wanted my space for projects, but I didn’t…well, looking back…I didn’t trust him with my cat. He implied I’d be _ allowed _ to go to work…But I doubt that’s going to last long.”

“Q. You can’t—“ 

“Oh, fuck off! I know! Ok? He wasn’t the greatest to begin with, but he was nothing like this! Looking back, I…no, I still wouldn’t have predicted this. Look, I work with computers, okay?”

Bond eyed the tech scattered on every available flat surface “You don’t say.”

“I’ve been gearing up to digitally erase myself, take care of _ things _ and…disappear.”

“You want to disappear?”

“No! I’ve worked too bloody hard to get this far, but it is clear that it is only a matter of time. He’s planning something. This is the sort of thing that ends when he _ kills _ me. I’ll do what I have to.”

“What things?”

“What _what things?” _

James squinted his eyes.

“Plausible deniability, James. Maintain it.”

“ Okay,” James said.

“Okay?”

“I’ll help.”

Q studied him for some time and then gave an exasperated huff. “Fine. But no killing him.” Then his lips curled in the sort of smile James could only call vindictive. “It lacks imagination.”

—————-

  
“What is it you _ want?” _ James cut off the quick reply, “Not what you think you can _ have_, but what you want, ideally.”

Q blew the fringe out of his face.

“I don’t want to quit my job. Well, I _ always _ want to quit my job because it sucks. But I don’t want to _ have _ to. I don’t want to have to look over my shoulder.”

“That’s what you don’t want.”

“Even if he was locked up, he would eventually get out and come after me. I want to be safe. I want to be free.” Q rubbed his eyebrows with his palms. “I don’t see any of that happening, by the way. Well, other than the keeping myself safe. That’s in my hands. I can do that.”

“And if he is locked up, prison folk don’t take too kindly to former police officers.”

“What?”

“Are you going to change your mind at the thought of him being beaten or killed in prison?”

“What? I…why would you ask that?!”

“I need to know, Q.”

“If even half the things he insinuated are true, he deserves to be locked up. And, and what happens after is out of my hands. I just…I don’t want to…please don’t make me look at _ pictures _ of it.” He looked ill.

“He showed you pictures? Of the kidnappers of the young Miss Garcia?”

“He read me the very detailed case notes and made me look at the pictures. Told me it was to cheer me up.”

James forcibly kept 007 at bay.

“Q.” James touched Q’s chin to get his attention. “Q , I’m sorry. This is out of my hands.”

Q looked confused.

“He leaked _ highly classified _ information, I am obligated to report him.”

“Classified?

“Before, I thought you just meant he’d let slip a detail or two. Look, when I checked into the case, I was told it was above _ my _ security clearance which as a retired naval commander is not inconsiderable by the way, which means it is a very big fucking deal. MI5 in the dead of night kind of deal. I don’t know who those kidnappers were connected to (_lie_) but I have to report this.”

“Fuuuck. Did I commit treason?”

“No, certainly not.” James moved his hand to Q’s shoulder. “But Q, you have to understand, they may cart him away with a black hood and you may never hear a peep about him again.”

“But I’ll be safe?”

“I will make sure I am notified long before he ever sees the light of day again.”

“…and…and the pictures? The recordings of me?”

There was little reassurance James could give here. “I’ll see what I can do.”

——————

James said, “I’m going to arrange for you to stay with someone for a few days.”

Q clutched his cat closer to him and opened his mouth like he was going to start berating him.

James rolled his eyes. “Both of you, Q. Give me some credit.” 

———————

James watched Q finish the last of his packing.

But when Q stood in front of his monitors, giving them a complicated look, James stepped up to his side and said, “No erasing yourself and no _ other things.” _

Q looked torn.

James gently put his left arm around Q’s waist. “Give me two days, Q. And if I haven’t assured your safety to your satisfaction, well…that’s not going to happen.”

Q rested his head on James’ shoulder and then asked, “But you’re willing to renegotiate in the event of an event that will never come to pass?”

“Just so, Q.”


	6. Stash the Boffin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James takes Q somewhere safe while Bond goes off to most certainly not—how could you even think such a thing—kill the guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been sick all week, so let me know if I totally missed anything. This is my first ongoing multi-chapter work.

Hazel Greene tightened the sash on her second-favorite dressing gown, pursed her lips at the insistent knocking and yanked open her front door.

James Bond stood on her front step, fist poised to knock again.

“Absolutely not, Double—”

James coughed the cough of “not now, for the love of God, not now,” and a boy with a fluffy mess of black curls and a nasty black eye poked his head out around from behind James.

Hazel played it off by continuing, “—double toil and trouble;  
Fire burn and caldron bubble.  
Fillet of a fenny snake,  
In the caldron boil and bake;  
Banish, banish this here rake.”

James quirked a roguish smile, the fool. “That’s not how the rhyme goes, Hazel. Are you trying to trick me into calling you an old witch?”

Hazel gave a glower James would surely ignore, but the boy could learn a thing or two from.

“The only magic I do is with computers, James.”

“Not chemistry?”

”That’s poetry, you blunt instrument. I’m also on medical leave post-surgery, which you are perfectly well aware of, considering you sent me a gift basket. It was adequately thoughtful. Thank you.”

“You are most welcome my dear Hazel.”

“Now whatever ridiculous notion has brought you to my doorstep, the answer is _ Absolutely Not.” _

Before James could start in on any more nonsense, the fluffy-haired boy smacked at his arm, “Really James! She’s sure got your number. Why on Earth would you bother this poor woman, and after surgery! I told you I can take care of myself. Now come along.”

James gripped the boy’s arm lightly, but intentionally, the boy gasped. Not just the black eye then, and James had known right where to press—the bastard! James eased and adjusted his grip but did not let go.

“My neighbor, Q here just needs to lie low for a few days.”’ Then he turned his attention to Q, “Before he sustains any more damage.”

“Is this your handiwork then?”

James gave her a hard look, the boy, Q veritably squawked a vehement “most certainly not!”

”I just need you to look after the tyke while I take care of something. I’m sure your grandmotherly instincts will kick in.”

Hazel spooled up another protest, and Q started to protest again as well.

James cut them off. “Look. He may be even pickier about his tea than you are and should be sufficiently smug about computers. You’ll love him.”

”And Q, just think of this poor dear, post-surgery with no one to make her tea. You can tend to her and keep her entertained during her convalescence. Braid her lovely grey locks for all I care. I’m sure you have clever fingers. And—” he turned those piercing blue eyes back to Hazel “—It will keep Q out of the reach of his abusive ex who has been leaking EYES ONLY information and threatening his life.”

Hazel could feel herself visibly soften. _ Damn. _

“Just spouting a few lines of attributes and dumping us together like cut rate happy hour speed dating isn’t going to cut it.”

“Yes well, I can’t exactly cart him along to Thames House, now can I.”

“You owe me for this, James.”

“Please. I hear you’re even worse than me when you’re bored.”

She laughed. “Hardly. I’m not even allowed to check my work email.”

James barked a short laugh. “_ Allowed.” _

“Five. Really?” she asked in a lowered voice.

James said, “I’m most certainly not looking into matters of national importance while I’m on medical leave. I’ve had _ strict orders.” _

”Don’t make me laugh. I’ll pull a stitch.”

“You don’t have stitches.”

“Nosey Parker.”

James stepped aside to sweep up a rucksack and then much more gently, a cat carrier.

Q was waffling on the doorstep.

“Get in the house young man.” Hazel said.

“I’m ever so sorry to impose. I can find somewhere else to stay.”

”I’ll hear none of that, Q. You’re under my protection now. All of my considerable ire is directed at James.”

James rolled his eyes and set down his cargo inside the door.

James leaned in to kiss her cheek and whispered, “Keep him safe.”

Hazel acted as though he had said something indecent and slipped him an earwig when she thumped him. And then while she made a show of pushing him out the door, she tucked a mobile in his pocket.

“Your ire is exceedingly well placed, ma’am,” Q said.

She shut the door behind James and locked it.

“Please, call me Hazel. And besides, he’s done me a favor really, I’m not allowed to do any work and I’m about to go around the bend in boredom. But don’t ever let that man think you owe him a favor.”

Q ruffled the back of his curls.

“I’m afraid I’ll owe him an awful lot when this is done.”

She frowned. “Did you ask for his help or did he stick his nose in?”

”Oh, I had a plan, but he went and stuck his nose in. His entire head in really.”

“Oh, do tell.”


	7. Calling in a Chit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bond calls in a chit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first ongoing multi-chapter fic EVER, so I really appreciate your comments. :-)

This, this was why James Bond collected favours. Sure they were handy when he needed fake documents on the fly, the kinds of intel Q Branch couldn’t provide, or to be smuggled out on a twin-engine turboprop when his mission went tits up in a country he couldn’t be caught dead in.

He flirted with the secretarial pool, not because he was going for a quick fuck; he could get a quick fuck damned near anywhere, it was for information and for situations like this, though he had never quite had a situation like this. People thought he knew the birthdates, lunching habits, and floral preferences of assistants because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants, but he’s making relationships and contacts that he can call on and boy does he call on them now.

————————

Bond evaded the red-headed assistant’s half-hearted attempt to stop him, and strode into Duncan Hislop’s office in MI5.

The sandy-haired Hislop stood, channeling Jack Wade and said, “Whoa there, Jimbo!”

Bond kept stalking forward and came to a stop in front of the old tank of a metal desk. Bond didn’t even glower, he just stared at him. Then finally said, “It loses its effect without the Hawaiian shirt and the accent.”

Hislop looked him up and down and then pulled a bottle of tequila out of a drawer. “You’re in a killer rage, but didn’t just strangle me for calling you Jimbo, I’d say you’ve come to collect.”

Bond looked at the offered drink in distaste.

“Oh for Christ’s sake, have a seat, we might as well pretend like we’re civilized.”

”If we were civilized, we’d be drinking out of glasses instead of coffee mugs.”

”Yes well, your looming might put me off my tequila.”

“As if anything could put you off your liquor. Drinking Jack’s drink, you really will be wearing a Hawaiian shirt next.”

“Oh, I just keep it on hand for troublesome _colleagues_ without an appointment.”

“Reposado?”

“I don’t actually hate myself. So what’s got you alarming my secretary and seething in my office?”

“The leaking of top secret documents by one detective sergeant Hunt, I’m just following procedure.”

Hislop nearly spit out his tequila all over his reports. “This is so far from procedure…” He tidied his desktop, just in case.

“It’s as much procedure as I’m willing to follow.”

”If you wanted to kill this chap, you would have already done it. Seriously, why haven’t you just taken care of it?”

“Reasons.”

“So you want MI5 to kill him.”

And Bond gave him a look that he had been told resembled a shark on more than one occasion. “There are many enhanced interrogation techniques that don’t result in death. Not immediately at least.”

“No. You are not using my agency in whatever vengeance you’re clearly hellbent on wreaking.”

Bond raised an eyebrow, he didn’t mention the reason he was owed this favour. Perhaps more than this favour, definitely more than this favour, but he would count them even if Hislop helped him.

“There’s no need to kill him.” _ Christ those words left a bad taste in his mouth. _“Though I want to.”

Hislop snorted.

”The investigation will surely see him locked up. A long drawn out death in prison wouldn’t be amiss.” Bond could practically feel his eyes twinkle.

“I am not sending you undercover to the prison so you can torture the guy.”

Bond raised an eyebrow as if to say “Who me?”

”You only think you have a poker face.” He rubbed his chin. “Who are you trying to protect? And how did you come by this information?” 

Bond began, “When my neighbor—“

”_Fucking Christ,” _Hislop said under his breath. He picked up the bottle and poured more tequila. 

“—ended his relationship with him, Hunt turned violent, and then made further threats with the understanding Hunt would abuse his position while carrying said threats out. Then while we were discussing matters, my neighbor alluded to having seen photographs from the Garcia case.”

”Why would Hunt show him those?”

“Why do abusive fucks do anything?” 

Hislop raised his glass and inclined his head.

”He read him the case files and made him look at the photographs.”

Hislop looked like he’d bitten into a mouldy sandwich. He ran a hand through his hair, to flatten the waves. “Yeah, okay, this fucker is going down.”

Bond gave the barest smile. 

Hislop finally said, “You’re sweet on the kid.”

“I take the safety of all my neighbors seriously.”

Hislop said, “You don’t say. That’s the whole reason you’re here. Once again, couldn’t go for the quick death, Jimbo.” 

Bond winced slightly. “I only just got there in time to prevent…you’ve read the files.” He tilted his head.

“Bravo on removing that scum from the face of the earth, although it was a bit overzealous.”

Bond shrugged.

Then Hislop smiled the sort of gruesome smile seen only in the business. “We use a scrubbed version of _the Garcia Incident _in training.”

Bond kept his expression impassive.

“As what to _ never _ do.”

Bond raised an eyebrow.

“We follow it up with a trip to the ghost cells, it implies a certain…chain of events.”

Bond merely stated, “I received a special commendation in my file for service to the Crown.”

“We most certainly do not mention that. You didn't know when you were raining down hell that they were tied into _ that _ syndicate. Which was convenient for M, having it all marked TOP SECRET – EYES ONLY, since it allowed her to cover up your _ considerable _ involvement.”

Bond gave the patented Bond stare. It was different from the 007 stare because Hislop was not going to be lying dead in 3 minutes.

“Where were we?” Hislop asked.

“I’ll be assisting in the interrogation.”

Hislop’s laugh was short and sarcastic. “No. I don’t care what you think I owe you. I’m of half a mind to confiscate your weapons. All of them. And then personally restrain you in the observation room. Make no mistake. If you come charging in to strangle Hunt, I will shoot you myself.” 

“You’re not allowed weapons in the Interrogation rooms.”

”You are going to _ observe _from the_ observation room. _And let me do my job. Or rather a _generous imaginative interpretation _of my job.”

“Though I prefer to tortu–_ interrogate _ him myself, I’m willing to be flexible on that point. As long as my neighbor’s safety is guaranteed.”

“Meaning the guy never gets out of prison.”

“Prison breaks happen. Parole happens.”

“Meaning he dies in prison, the sooner and more drawn out and bloodier the better.”

“And the destruction of all compromising photos and videos of my neighbor.”

”Compromising?”

“Made without his knowledge or consent. He expressly forbid them. I want them destroyed before anyone can see them.”

Hislop whistled.

Bond leaned in. “I’m calling in my chit, Duncan. You help me out on all of this, and we are even.” 

“_James.” _

“I mean it. We’ll be even.”

———————

  
Later, his assistant asked, “Geez, what do you owe that guy?”

And Duncan Hislop said, “_Everything.” _


	8. Your Mission is Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Hazel and Q get on like a house on fire. Hazel basically runs Q on missions around her home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back from RBB! Thanks to Sandywormbook for looking over this chapter. And thanks to everyone who has commented and left kudos so far, I really appreciate it.

Hazel settled into a nest of pillows on the high-backed, diamond-tufted, deep-seated, shelter-arm sofa in an unfairly appealing deep blue velvet. Someday Q would have real furniture. 

Q eyed the easy chair, he couldn't quite place the shade of dark reddish brown. “What an unusual and lovely chair. May I sit in it?”

“Of course lad.”

Q sat and nearly moaned in pleasure. “This is the most comfortable chair I’ve ever sat in.”

“Thanks love, quite practical too. I made it.”

“Like designed it?”

She laughed. “Designed every last detail and built it and upholstered it myself.”

Q sized her up. “I _ like _you, Hazel. You’re brilliant!”

Hazel smiled, and said, “You have no idea.”

* * *

“I’m quite glad you’re here, Q. My most favorite dressing gown is in the wash, would you terribly mind running a load of laundry for me in a bit?”

“Of course, ma—“

She gave him a look.

“—Hazel.”

* * *

Agent Kitty patrolled her new territory and returned to sit on the back of the chair over her human’s right shoulder. This place would do nicely for a strategic retreat. 

* * *

“Aren’t you going to comment on my surname?” Hazel asked. 

“I’d rather hoped to avoid the third degree on my own name, so no, not unless you start it.”

“Good lad. Same for age?”

“I’m out of uni.” Q groused. 

“Oh! Me too!” Hazel said with such false enthusiasm that Q laughed so hard he snorted. 

Agent Kitty put her paw on his shoulder in the universal sign of _ Dad, you’re embarrassing me. _

* * *

“I’m afraid I’ve used up my being vertical allotment for the morning, so I’m going to recline here on the sofa and send you on a series of missions. Since we’re both civilized, unlike that James, we’ll start with tea.”

“That sounds lovely,” Q said. 

“Here's a phone, I’ll play tour guide over video chat. First off, the kitchen. Your mission is tea.” She gestured toward the doorway.

Q had the distinct impression there was more to her flat and furnishings than met the eye. He couldn't put his finger on anything in particular, so he shrugged it off.

Hazel was almost finished guiding him through a thorough tour of the kitchen. 

“Now pay close attention, Q. In the cupboard above the sink, note the assortment of single glasses. Don’t ever use one of those unless I specifically ask for ‘the glass above the sink.’ And when I do say ‘be a dear and fetch whatever particular kind of liquor, the glass is above the sink,’ do that and don’t ask any questions.”

“Yes, Hazel.”

“I like you. I think I’ll keep you.”

* * *

While they were having their tea and almond thins, Hazel asked Q about his job.

“It’s a bit absurd really, and I’m way too overqualified, but it’s my friend from uni and I owe her. And it does leave me plenty of time and brain power to work on my side projects.”

She frowned. 

“What do you do, Hazel?”

“Oh, I’m more of a consultant at this point.”

“James mentioned computers?”

The doorbell rang. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake! Now who is it?” She glanced at her mobile. “Q, you’d better get that, he’ll just keep knocking and then _ crash! bang! _he’ll be in here pestering us soon enough.”

Q gave his cat one last rub and then went and answered the door. “May I help you?” 

He could feel PreviousQ rear up and say “this one looks like an _excellent_ bad decision. Are those knife holes in that leather jacket?”

“Where’s Hazel?” the clearly a bad boy with blondish brown hair and green eyes demanded.

Q said, “She’s indisposed,” and went to shut the door.

The man caught it with his hand. “Where’s Hazel?”

“Jesus wept," Hazel said and then more loudly called, “Let him in before the neighbors call the police!”

The man held out his hand, “My name’s Alec.”

Q shook it and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alec. I’m Q.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Alec said and then kissed his hand while leering at him.

“WHAT THE FUCK? Who does that?!”

“Get in here, you big lout, where I can keep an eye on you!”

Alec muttered, “Like you didn’t have eyes on me as soon as I stepped onto your street,” and then once he entered the sitting room, his tone changed to warmth, “The lovely Hazel Greene.”

“Just because I’m on medical leave post surgery, doesn’t mean I’m hopped up on enough pain killers to put up with your shite.”

"Did you get my get well basket?"

"An assortment of vodkas and a set of butterflies? Was that for me or to amuse pests that drop by?"

"There was more than enough for your well wishers, and I know you collect them."

Q hadn't seen any butterflies. _Strange._

"Maybe I collect them to use on my well wishers."

"You can _try. _Now where’d you find this fluff ball?”

Q sidestepped just in time to avoid Alec’s arm wrapping around his waist.

“He’s my helper post surgery.”

“Thought maybe you’d pulled him out of a back alley brawl with the other kittens.”

“Yeah well,” Q muttered, “you should see the other guy.”

“Ooh. Fluffy and feisty and not afraid to get into a scrap. Can I keep him?”

“No. I have temporary custody and am angling for full-time,” Hazel said. 

_ What odd people _Q thought. 

After a brief inquiry into Hazel’s health, Alec returned to flirting with Q, much to Q’s annoyance. 

Hazel finally said, “Careful, Alec. Put your pick up lines on hold until you’ve cleared it with your twin. James has his eye on this one.”

Q started to protest, but then realized he didn't want to encourage Alec in any way, shape, or form.

Alec’s face was that of a grumpy toddler losing his new toy.

“How do you know James?” Q asked.

“We’re best friends, practically brothers.”

“He’s never mentioned you.” _Oh dear,_ Q realized how that sounded as it left his mouth. Oh well, he might as well own it, and raised a sassy eyebrow.

Alec looked affronted for a half a second, then asked, “How do _ you _ know James?!”

“We’re neighbors.”

Alec got a look of unholy glee. 

Q thought _ Oh dear. That cannot be good. _

“No, Alec, no,” Hazel said sternly.

“I’ve never been allowed in James’ real building. But you! You could let me in!”

“Real building?” Q asked.

“You can take me back to yours,” Alec said with what Q immediately dubbed the cheesiest bedroom eyes in existence.

“No,” Q said, “Absolutely not.”

“Alec, no. It’s too dangerous,” Hazel said.

“But you’ll have me.” And Alec winked as if anyone could miss _ that _ innuendo.

Q said, “Literally over my dead body.”

Alec was relentless. Hazel finally cut in to rescue the poor boy. “Q has some chores to finish for me. He absolutely has to stay here until after I’ve taken my next dose of medicine. And I haven’t eaten my lunch yet.”

She could feel the look of betrayal Q was giving her. He’d learn soon enough.

Alec was still bouncing. “Ha! I’m going to get into James’ building at long last!” If he was a Labrador, he’d lick Q. He still might.

“Q, be a dear and go get a cup and saucer for Alec.”

Alec griped about despising tea. Hazel thought _Right on schedule. _

“Oh fine," Hazel continued, "there’s vodka in the freezer for the great sulking child. Be a dear and get the glass above the sink. Might as well bring some more biscuits while you're at it.”

Q looked less betrayed and more confused, but he stood up and went into the kitchen.

Hazel scolded Alec. “Really, Alec! The poor boy has been through enough!”

“I’m just having a bit of fun.” Alec groused. 

“But Q is not having fun.” She paused, waiting for it to sink in. It did not. “I can still take you over my knee,” Hazel warned. 

Alec barked a laugh. “I’d like to see you try.”

Q returned and delivered Alec’s shot of vodka first and then set down the assortment of biscuits.

Alec winked at Q and then knocked back the shot, got a confused then accusatory look on his face and promptly collapsed, half onto the floor and half onto the ottoman. Hazel propped her leg on him—Q shrieked—Hazel said, “What? I’m supposed to keep it elevated.”

“You! You poisoned him!”

“No dear, _ you _poisoned him,” Hazel corrected.

Q gasped.

“Oh don’t worry, he won’t be too mad. He’ll take it as foreplay more than anything.” 

Q felt a bit sick at that. 

“Christ, I’m sorry, Q. I shouldn’t have said that. This medicine dulls my mind a bit.”

Q said, “This is you at your least sharp? That’s frightening.”

But then he looked down at Alec and the guilty look returned.

“Now listen to me lad, that man does not listen just like James does not listen.”

Q thought _ But James does listen to me now. _

“And he was hell bent on dragging you back to your flat where you’d be in danger,” Hazel said. “And as sure as he is of himself, you’ve been dragged around enough. Besides, I need you to swap my laundry to the dryer when it chimes. Be a dear and remember it’s the ultra low setting.”

“But—“

“I tried warning him. I used my deadly serious voice. He should know by now to listen to it.”

“Where’s the antidote or did you…did _I_ kill him “

“Of course not. It’s not an actual poison, only an incapacitating agent. No sense bothering with formulating an antidote. It’s a pet project, and I only use it on the deserving. He should come around in 3 hours. Which means he’ll do it in 2 because he is a contrary arse. But if it’s any consolation, he’ll probably have one hell of a headache.” She propped her foot back on him, “Serves him right, the great—”

“But what was it?”

“Best not to ask too many questions dear.”

Q sulked. 

“Young man, when your James left you in my care, he wasn’t pawning you off on a dotty old babysitter. He left you under _ my _ protection. And I don’t fuck around.” She poked Alec with her toe. "Besides, the insufferable prick dared me. Twice." 

Q eyed Alec’s unconscious form. 

Hazel brightened. “Speaking of, let’s finish our tea and you can tell me what you had planned before James stuck his nose in.”

* * *

“Well, I’d planned to make myself disappear and other things. Which he then forbade.”

“Yes, but what about _other_ other things? Did he forbid those?”

“I don’t follow.”

“You poor sweet innocent boy, you will soon enough. Let’s have some fun!”

* * *

Agent Kitty pounced onto the chest of the sleeping one and faced her human, and kept swishing her tail in the sleeping one’s face. She thought about peeing on him, but she didn’t want to disrespect the den of the old one. The old one had made a compelling case for mutual respect. Agent Kitty would have to bring her a worthy present, but for now she would guard the great stinking lump. 

* * *


	9. In the Interrogation Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which James Bond observes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely comments. They really help. Thanks to Sandywormbook for looking over this part. Here's a new chapter.

James Bond trusted Duncan Hislop as much as he could trust anyone in the greater business, especially with the sizable favor he was owed. Bond was not sold on the other interrogator, Mari Pritchard, but Hislop had been firm regarding her inclusion. 

The interrogation of detective sergeant Hunt had gotten off to a boring and unfortunately unbloody start.

“Look my boy--that little whore wouldn’t stop sniveling about his missing neighbor kid,” Hunt directed to Hislop, “You know how it is.”

Bond winced in the observation room. The detective sergeant was trying to “good old boy” Hislop, and Bond wondered how long until Duncan clocked him. 

“It almost put me off fucking his face, you know how it is, tears when you split ‘em open without enough prep is one thing, but crying all over my cock ‘cause of some whorekid,”--Hunt paused his revolting recollection to make a faux gagging sound--“Anyway, I just let slip they got the guys, that’s all.”

The questioning continued. Hunt couldn’t feel the noose tightening around him yet, but Bond could certainly sense it.

When it came out that Hunt had threatened Q with using his police buddies to keep him in line, his minder looked over in alarm when Bond broke the seat’s armrest.

Hunt kept repeating, “It didn’t hurt anything. I just wanted to shut him up.” And then to Hislop, he said, “Surely you’ve smacked your bitch around.”

Bond would have admired Hislop’s control if he didn’t desperately want to strangle the fucker.

“This is just a misunderstanding,” Hunt claimed for the 17th time.

“We have testimony that you accessed and removed top secret information from the chief superintendent’s office,” Hislop said.

After much longer than it should take even a semi-sentient creature to think of it, he asked, “How did you find out about all of this? Did that whore squeal?” And then he muttered, though Bond clearly heard it with the hidden mics, “I knew I shouldn’t have released him. Never should have let him loose to go pack his apartment. I should have dragged his scrawny arse home and killed his cat in front of him.”

_ Thwack! _

Christ. Who knew Pritchard was an animal lover. Hunt had lost a tooth and hopefully gained a sprained neck.

And Bond had doubted Hislop when he said she was going to be his co-interrogator. He was going to buy her a drink. 

She had gotten Hunt in a stranglehold with his shirt now.

“I don’t think you understand where you are, you treasonous filth. You are in the bowels of MI5. There is no record of you being taken in. I’ve killed bigger pieces of shite on my tea break, but I am willing to make an exception for you.”

James was going to buy her a _ car _.

Hunt was trying to reclaim some bravado. 

She crushed him. “You are going to tell us every single law you have broken, including the traffic tickets your mates got you out of.”

He balked, tried to scoff. He quickly came to regret it.

Bond admired her technique.

Hunt said, “This isn’t MI5’s purview!”

“You’ve admitted plenty. Who are we to not question you thoroughly? You easily could have committed actual treason and been too dumb to know it.”

Hunt started in with a favorite of the guilty, “Someone will come for me. I’ve got friends in high places. You’ll be sorry. They’ll get me out of here.”

“You've disappeared into thin air. There's no record. Even if anyone gave a shite about you, _ which I doubt, _they’d have no idea where you are.”

Hunt smirked and said, “They know_ everything. _ They’ll find me.”


	10. As the Assassin Slumbers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hazel checks email and does a bit of online banking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I know this comes across as Magical Banking, and I have made my peace with that. Once upon a time, I worked in banking and when I got the hell out, I deleted every last bit. Just go with it. 
> 
> Thanks to Sandywormbook for looking over the initial draft of this chapter.

Hazel kept Q engaged in conversation, nonchalantly gathering information, a good deal of it about his ex. She was pumping him for information, but he remained unaware. 

He was giving her serious sideeye. 

Damn, maybe not as nonchalant as she thought. _ Damn this medication. _

“I know what you’re doing. Pumping me for information on my ex. You’d best not be reporting back to James.”

“Please, I wouldn’t give that man the time of day for free. And you are much too delightful to sell out.”

Q looked skeptical.

“But I _ am _a nosy old woman. What was it about him, this ex of yours?”

Q gave her a _ look. _ “Just because I’m a genius doesn’t mean I am incapable of thinking with my cock.”

* * *

Hazel was still talking, but her typing had intensified. 

“You’re supposed to be resting,” Q said.

“I’m just checking email.”

“You’re not allowed to check your email.” 

“I never said I was checking _ mine.” _

“Hazel Greene!”

"If they didn’t want me poking around, they should get serious about their security."

Q snorted. 

Hazel went for a benign facial expression. “I’ve got to do a little banking, perhaps you can assist me?” She patted the space on the sofa next to her.

“I don’t know how you expect the dotty old grandma routine to work on me. I’ve seen your laundry rig. Less thought and tech goes into space missions.”

Hazel nudged the still unconscious Alec with her toes. “You’d be surprised who it works on, even though they should know better.”

Hazel went back to typing. Q looked over at her screen and squawked. 

“Are you hacking into a bank?”

“Don’t be ludicrous. I’m not _ hacking _ into it, I’m _ allowed _ into it. These are my bosses’ credentials.”

“Hazel Greene!”

“Oh, don’t be such a goodie two shoes. I’ve got clearance enough for the both of us. I’m only using his because I’m home on medical leave.”

“That’s not how clearance works!” 

She rolled her eyes.

“Who exactly do you work for?” he asked.

“I could tell you, but...I don’t want to.”

“You are a brat.”

“I will have you know that I have turned positively angelic in my old age.”

Q pulled on his hair and glared for a bit, but then finally sighed and asked, “Right. What are we looking for?”

“You said it’s something bigger?”

“Yes, I’m sure of it, but I have no proof, of course.”

“Oh, we’ll find it,” she said.

They spent a good while going through deposits and withdrawals.

“That bastard! He swore he wasn’t going there anymore.“

Hazel kept scanning.

A little while later, Q cackled.

Hazel said, “Hmmmmm?” in question. 

“I wish I could see the look on his face. He wanted me to do the most basic password cracking. And I pretended like I was clueless.”

“Why?”

“One, it’s wrong, and two, I’m not doing work for his lazy ass. And three, well…” Q squinted at the screen. “This is wrong. He doesn’t have this much money.” 

Q scanned the column. “There.” He pointed at £3800. “He doesn’t own a rental property.”

“Good catch.” She backed out of the file.

“What?”

“Watch young one.”

“I thought we weren’t going to discuss age.”

Hazel laughed. 

She searched for the name of the rental company on his coworkers’ accounts. “No luck.”

“Try the dollar amount. They would surely think to disguise the name of the firm so it wasn’t easily tracked, but the cheap bastards would bitch and moan if any one of them got 5p more.”

Four. Four matches came back.

Q studied the names. Finally, he said, “We’ve got ourselves a clever arse. They’ve used famous Roberts. For the _ bobbies. _Some smug bastard can’t resist a pattern. We should keep an eye out for that.”

“Well fuck,” Hazel said, “Surely it’s not limited to this precinct. How do we search further afield other than who got £3800 deposited?”

Q pulled his hair up in his fists. “We can’t search all of London to see who got £3800.” He let go to rub his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Fuck.”

When Q pulled his hands away, he saw Alec eyeing him, and the blond looked _furious. _

“You little shite! You poisoned me!” 

Q gave his best unimpressed face. “It was merely an incapacitating agent, _ clearly. _Besides, Hazel. Asked. Nicely.”

Alec growled.

“Yeah well, your pig headedness would likely have gotten me killed,” Q said. “Now kindly fuck off back unconscious. We’re busy.”

Alec asked, “Why are you two hacking into banks anyway? It’s usually the Chinese or Americans when you’re bored.”

Q looked up, shocked at being caught, but then realized Alec was looking at Hazel, and he directed his still shocked face to her.

Now Hazel rubbed her face. “We’ll have to tell him.”

“My ex was leaking classi—eyes only?” Q looked at Hazel.

She nodded.

“—eyes only documents and James was going to…well, he knew people from the Navy? Who could look into it.”

“He was headed to Thames House, Alec.” Hazel said.

“Like honest to god heading to 5, not just saying that for little ears?”

“He deposited Q in my care, responsibly I might add, and then headed to 5.”

“Wow. He must lurve you.” Alec made the most ridiculous heart eyes. 

Q ignored him and turned to Hazel. “Now can we get back to work?”

“Why does my mouth taste like cat?” Alec made spitting sounds. “Why do I have cat hair in my mouth?”

They ignored him.

Q reached back and petted his cat. She purred.

Q said, “Try it from the other end. Start with transfers of £3800. Then transfers at the same time as the precinct. And if those don’t work, search for simultaneous transfers of identical amounts.”

Alec was looking over their shoulders now, watching, leaning on the back of the sofa for much needed support. Still occasionally trying to spit out a cat hair.

Between the two of them, they started to crack it. Faces began popping up in a new window. Hazel was flipping through screens that looked a lot like branches of government. The palace. 

Q said, “I don’t understand.”

Hazel had seen enough, she activated James’ earwig.

She said, “You need to leave. Now.” 

Q looked around. “Who is she talking to?”

When he looked at Alec, Alec tapped his ear. 

Alec leaned down and whispered in his ear, “She’s speaking to James.”

* * *

James kept his eyes on the interrogation, but said, “Explain.’

“We traced a network of payments. There’s bound to be some in MI5. But there is certainly one on the palace staff. Go. I’ll update you on the way.”

James growled.

Hazel said, “You don’t have time to warn anyone and more importantly you can’t risk tipping off any moles in MI5.”

James grabbed the intercom and with much disgust said, “_ Zagreb,” _and left at a run.

* * *

Inside the interrogation room, Duncan Hislop had thought he was making good headway. And then that voice saying that word. There hadn’t been instructions, just a word slipped in that most likely shouldn’t have been. 

Right. _Fuck._ That would be his only warning.

He was going to have a dead prisoner in just a bit. Now was it coming from within the room or through the door? He would have to keep on his toes to stay alive.

* * *

James Bond raced out of MI5 with Hazel Greene in his ear.


End file.
